


Es Muss Sein

by Bnever2busy2byoyo



Category: Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel, Spider-Man - Fandom, SpiderIron - Fandom, stony - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, Iron Spider - Freeform, M/M, Rough Sex, SpiderIron - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bnever2busy2byoyo/pseuds/Bnever2busy2byoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slice of life for Peter Parker. Some eventual Peter x Tony.</p>
<p>I don't own any of these characters. If you are not aware of the glory that is the Marvel universe you need to crawl back under your rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee Stains

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone understands how thirsty I am. Like, thirsty enough that I died a while ago and came back JUST to let you know how thirsty I am and as soon as I am finished I will make sure I die again. This thirst for some SpiderIron is real. This paring doesn't seem as popular so this is my writing exercise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes to a job interview and meets Pepper.

The coffee swished to the brim of the cup, threatening to spill over. Peter stopped moving, completely stilled, watched as the tiny tsunami curled up over the lip and came crashing down onto itself. A final drop jumped and came down in an elegant arch... coming only to rest for seconds and disappeared into the crisp edge of his white shirt.

NOT a good way to begin his interview. He already over spent this months' "incidentals" budget in picking up the new shirt, vest, skinny tie and slacks. Landing the internship would plug the leaking hole left in his bank account since the nightly activities as the masked vigilante had been steadily consuming his life. He could only sell so many pictures of Spider-Man to the Bugle before he attracted suspicion. There was not enough time between school and crawling the streets to work a 9-5. Paid internships like this came so rare, almost a myth.

In short, he needed this badly. Not only would scoring the internship at Stark Enterprise be an incredible chance at supported research and development but it would also grant the access to all the latest tech only a vast wealth could afford. The monthly stipend gifted to the intern didn't hurt either.

Back to the stain on his cuff. Would anyone notice? Peter guessed he had roughly another 5 minutes before someone came in to get him. Not enough time to pop out of the waiting room and try to find a lavatory to blot out the stain. Peter berated himself for having not put on a suit jacket in a stupid attempt to modernize his dress. Had he worn a traditional suit he could have just pulled the sleeve down over the cuff.

_Too late now_ , Peter thought, _Maybe I can just limit the use of that hand and not draw attention to it._

He slowly took a breath and tried focusing himself. It was hard to be cool, calm and collected when what he really wanted to do was hit the do-over button. Just march out of there, go to bed, wake up and try it all over again.  


The door he had used to enter the waiting room opened and in walked a thin redhead. Her hair was pulled back in a low sleek knot, her grey and white dress tailored perfectly to her svelte figure. A light hint of red stained her lips and just the barest of a black line accentuated blue eyes crowning the smattering of freckles scattered across her nose. The "Hand of Stark", aka Virginia Potts.

Quickly straightening his spine to his full height, Peter stopped fidgeting with the stain on his cuff and tried to wipe the surprised look off his face.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Parker." A manicured, reedy hand extended in his direction and he had only a second to register how damp his own palm was as it settled against hers with a squish. Peter desperately hoped his perception of the moment and his overall dampness was merely magnified by his blood rushing to his head. If she noticed how clammy his own hand was she didn't let on at all. He broke the handshake and fought wildly against the urge to drag his palm on the leg of his slacks.

"Good Morning Ms. Potts."

It always took Peter a moment to focus in on someone's eyes. He was forever getting caught on the small details of a person before he could make himself create steady eye contact. Sometimes it gave others the impression he was shy or even slow. He had taken note of how the skin of her hand didn't exactly match the youth of her face. She is perhaps older than a first glance would suggest. Virginia Potts looked tired but she held it in well, and when he finally focused his vision to zero in on her face again he noticed how her eyes had a softness to them that eased him with familiarity.

Despite himself he ventured a small smile. It was quickly returned as she moved to the coffee station, compulsively straightening k-cups and taking stock while she spoke.

"I remember like it was yesterday when I entered this place and how out of body everything was. It was so surreal that I'm afraid I don't have any real recollection of my own interview with Human Resources. Everything I remember is probably what I've imagined to fill in the spots left of when I slipped into auto-pilot."

A small drawer under the coffee caddy was snaked open and shut again. The quick clicks of her heels echoed against the spartan furnishings as she moved. With a deliberate turn, she faced Peter again. Now a small orange Tide pen clasped in her hand. 

"What I mean to say is this will be tramatic enough without adding mortification before you even walk in." 

Peter had no idea when she noticed the stain. He was really good at reading people having spent countless nights watching people move in the ways they only do when they assume they are alone. Mind racing now, Peter replayed the last 5 minutes in his head. He was sure her eyes never rested or registered the brown spot. 

Cap off, the white tip of the stain pen was already coming towards him. 

"May I," said Ms. Potts, as she gave him no chance to move or speak while she took his wrist between the cap she was palming and the rest of her digits and began swabbing the stain with the pen.

The spot darkened momentarily and as it spread it faded some.

"That didn't work well at all, did it?" She put the cap back on the pen and placed the pen onto the coffee table. Taking advantage of already being bent down, she tugged two kleenex from a small white ceramic box beside the magazine spread.

Peter glanced back down at his cuff and undid the two clear side buttons holding it in place. He gingerly took one of the tissues she offered and began to blot the excess liquid from the brown watermark now gracing his clothing. He was touched by the effort of this woman. Of course his luck would continue as much as it always had and the stain would prove impervious to any attempt to remove it. Something in her attempt to help who essentially amounted to a complete stranger opened him up. He could see a bit of his Aunt May's kindness in those blue eyes.

The top magazine on the table caught his attention. He could almost laugh if his future didn't sit on the chopping block. Having seen Tony Stark in news clips and press releases he really should not be too surprised to see the cover of all the magazines featured interviews of Mr. Stark in all his suave glory. The meticulously groomed fancial hair, that smirk, the artfully rumpled and tailored clothing...

"I know. I'll just undo both the sleeves, and roll up the cuffs. It will completely hide the stain and with today's fashion trends no one will even notice."

"You really think that's going to fly? You don't want to burn your one chance to impress."

He slowed his hand down as he finished rolling the second sleeve to rest half way up his forearm. Smoothing his hands down the vest as he once again paused to center himself. He was Spider-Man. He used those same hands to grip into impossible angles on the very top of the highest structures. Flung himself at incredible speeds into the night. Could carry tons by himself like it was nothing.

It was never easy to pull his confidence from Spider-Man into his life but in certain occasions he managed to. This might have not started out like he wanted but he was going to make damn sure it finished on his terms.

"I'm going to give it my best. To be honest I am afraid of blowing it but I know my previous work already speaks for me and so does my academia. If the only thing I manage to gain from this experience is trying out a new fashion statement, it won't all have been in vain," He said with a rueful smile.

"Well, Mr. Parker, breathe easy. Your visit with H.R. is just a formality to finalize everything."

"W-what do you mean, a formality?" Peter could hardly get the words out. 

"You're hired, Mr. Parker. And please...call me Pepper."


	2. We Aren't Downtown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes to both his adult residence and his childhood place to share his news.

It finally sank in by the 7th block as he passed over the crosswalk. He had the internship. 

_"Make sure you sign in for Orientation by the 10th. We only host Orientation on the 15th of every month and it is compulsory to attend Orientation prior to being assigned a division..."_

Not for the first time, Peter was thankful someone had the foresight to write a summary of instructions and include it in the black folder he was presented with after H. R. finished with him. His mind was jumping everywhere. Clips of meeting and talking to Ms. Potts kept getting spliced with segments of H. R. protocol. 

_"Call me Pepper."_

Peter couldn't wait to tell Aunt May. He felt the shit-eating grin threatening to take over again. A fast glance up confirmed he was approaching his stop. He could see his bus (Q for Queens) already pulled up to the curb and he picked up his pace. Paying with his Metro card he boarded quickly and found a spot to sit.

He broke a cardinal rule of bus riding and made eye contact with an older, taller man.

"Wipe that smile off your face, we aren't downtown."

Peter quickly broke eye contact and tried to school his face. Once he got into Forest Hills it was just another brisk walk to reach his apartment.

He couldn't have hoped for better. Even the commute to Stark Enterprises wasn't more than 30 minutes by bus and walk.

The 750 square foot prewar walk-up he called home was on the 5th floor of his building. It was probably the only time in his life he was at the right place at the right time. A rental like this one with high ceilings, crown moldings, fire escape, and twin french windows was the stuff of legend. Apartments like this usually only came with a broker fleecing you first. But the opportunity came when a friend of Aunt May's broke the lease and after years of being a faithful tenant, used his one influence to vouch for Peter.

Of course this meant he lived on water, Ramen and soda crackers to pay his bills but this space was his everything. The extreme discipline he had to keep to make sure he used the bare minimums of water and electricity always seemed worth while once he glanced out the windows.

It didn't matter that part of his furnishings came rescued from curbs while the other half required painstaking sacrifice to save enough to purchase them. What he lacked in furnishings he made up with in accents. Photographs and lithos graced the walls in their mismatched dime-store frames.

A brown bookshelf he pulled from a heap by a street corner and refinished during a weekend took a section of the living room. It was crammed full of books in a way to rival Tetris, spines out to facilitate searches for specific titles. His aunt had donated a dark grey floor rug to his cause and it now dominated most of the area around the black futon and the trunk that held some of his clothing. 

The laptop covered every inch of the short rectangular crate that served as both storage and coffee table. A previous attempt at organizing the mash-up of computer parts and juniper cables kept everything controlled with the help of zip ties so now the impression left was of a barely restrained electrical octopus growing from the middle of the room. This computer was the aorta of his life. Research center, guide, entertainment, everything revolved or was resolved by this modern piece of alchemy.

Originally the apartment looked much like his bedroom at his aunts' when he first moved in. Which is to say he arrived and his things exploded all over every inch of available space.

He continued much the same until one night when he managed to score a rare date with someone he had somehow impressed on his own. Almost all his dates had always been blind set-ups orchestrated by the handful of well meaning friends who graced his life. This one had hurt, all it took was a wrinkled nose from the first woman he managed to get in months to let him know he wouldn't have any luck with anyone if he didn't control the rat nest he called home. His aunts' advice to buy dark furnishings if he didn't plan to compulsively clean had been taken to heart after that aborted attempt at intimacy.

Almost everything in the space was black, brown or grey. He kept his dumping spots of clutter out of sight with the help of decor boxes, and baskets skillfully covered in throw blankets.

The only jumps of color came from the tiny pots of succulents dotting everything. A friend had gifted one to Peter as a joke, claiming not even he would manage to murder it since succulents thrive on neglect. It would prove a rousing success. Peter only rarely remembered it's existence in the first few months managed to not over-water it.

Before he knew it the little green alien had dropped off part of its globular leaves with tiny pink wisps growing out of the ends. A quick bit of research told him it wasn't dying but "propagating". Guidance in the book recommended to drop them on soil and before he knew what happened Peter found himself the proud father of more than 10 knew budding plants.

He felt a certain type of kinship to those hardy little plants that grew on the bare minimums. With just a hint of moisture and a tiny bit of soil they latched onto anything in their environment and became so much more.

Desk-gardener. Moderate vigilante. Clean college student. Conservative with liberal views. So many things most people would never credit him with on a first glance. Continuous walking contradictions. It really was pointless to try and apply so many labels when the reality of self-invention could come daily and fluidity of a person's quintessence was undeniable.

Certain ideals would remain no matter how many changes but for the most part Peter believed it was up to each individual to decide who and how they wanted to be. His changes in character once he pulled on his mask was proof enough of that to him. It wasn't so much other people seeing him without the anonymity that kept him from being his "Spider-Man" persona all the time but it was something in himself. A sadistic self-sabotage he had not uprooted yet but he finally explored enough that with focus he could draw that side of himself out when he needed to. Ideally one day he hoped he could be one and the same all the time.

His personal mantra said it best: _Accept everyone but take shit from no one._

He would have it embroidered on a pillow if he knew how to needlepoint.

Peter tugged on his tie to loosen the knot and finally yanked it off his neck. He dropped his phone and keys into the wood bowl he found at a pop-up urban street market. Kicking off his shoes, he undid his pants and pulled the dress shirt out.

The bathroom was adjacent to the pantry and the need to go had been weighing in his bladder for a while. Nothing like taking a leak in the privacy of your own home. A quick rinse of his hands and he finished undoing the buttons up his front.

He pulled the entire mess off of himself and tossed it all into a neat pile on the top of the closed lid of the toilet seat. He would stop by the dry cleaners around the corner later on and make sure everything would be ready by the beginning of next week. The precious few business clothes he owned he always took really good care of. With only a few pieces at his disposal he had to have everything ready as soon as possible.

A quick walk back out to the main living area brought him to rest at the old steamer trunk against one end of the futon. Cracking open Pandora's box to locate a clean cream colored thermal shirt and some jeans took a moment and once he shrugged everything on he had to feel in the crack of the futon to locate his belt. Some black socks and the black vans he wore when he wanted to be comfortable completed his look.

_"...assigned a division..."_

No amount of thinking could bring back any mention of what the possible divisions could be. Not that it really mattered. He would do whatever they needed. He had to excel. This could be the beginning of something really great and he was not about to take a chance at being passed up. They could assign him to coffee lackey for all he cared.

Going back to the wood bowl to retrieve his phone, he unlocked the screen and hit the speed dial for his Aunt. She answered on the second ring. 

"Tell me everything," came Aunt May's breathless voice. He could hear the excitement in her tone.

Peter could also hear her muffled movements and the sounds of her shifting the phone around. "Am I catching you at a bad time? I can call back..."

"You know what, you kind of are. Why don't you head over and give me the details? By the time you get here I can give you my undivided attention." And with that Peter found himself holding an empty line. 

Peter looked down at his phone. His wallpaper on his home screen was a picture of the two of them when he was still a child, prior to the incident. _Which of all incidents are we talking about?_ His uncle had taken that picture. It was impossible to not think of him in the same moments when he saw the photograph but somehow it was more bearable without seeing his face.

He was grateful his Aunt started dating again, began to entertain and start the hobbies that fell by the way-side when she had to assume the mantel of a single mother after everything happened. Grateful but sad. It had been just the two of them for so long.

Moments like these when she was clearly tied up with something that did not revolve around him and his life still threw him off balance. He wondered who she could have over since she was so quick to get him off the phone. It couldn't be anything very intimate since she _did_ make it a point to invite him over. He made up his mind to take his time on the way over, just in case.

Pulling a hooded jacket out of the one closet located in his apartment, he started tugging it on as he headed out the door.

Aunt May lived in Queens. Another brisk walk, 15 minute bus ride, and two blocks to reach the street she lived on. Before he branched out to start his "adult" life he had assisted her with getting the permits and bank loan needed to convert the house he grew up in to a duplex. His Aunt supplemented her income with the rent from the family that moved in next to her.

It was an odd feeling to go back and only see half of the spaces his memories occupied. A stupid nostalgia, perhaps, since he knew that chapter of his life was over. She needed what she could get to keep herself above her bills. He was so proud of her for the sacrifices she made. She was a fighter, a battle axe when she needed to be.

Peter didn't make it up to her door before it was opened and out she came to greet him. His Aunt was still beautiful. Silver hair meticulously pinned in a chignon, soft grey cardigan enveloped her bony body. Some black slacks peeked out from underneath her top and she was wearing silver slip-on shoes. She was _definitely_ entertaining someone before he called. He tried not to let his thoughts influence his voice as he returned the greeting and hugged her.

"So tell me all about it. You know, I have always been so curious of what that building holds. Every little clip on the television of Mr. Starks' press releases is always filmed in what looks like a conference room. Does it all look like that? Was the interviewer nice? Did you get to meet Mr. Stark? When will you find out if you're hired? Have you eaten yet?"

Aunt May tended to speak in a rush when she was excited. Peter didn't know where to begin but he found he could not stop smiling. He was still speechless. 

They crossed the threshold of her porch and came into the remolded living room. His aunt had opened the floor plan to maximize on reconstructing the space and while her side of the house was smaller it was meticulously arranged. Her kitchen was built into the living room that doubled as a dining area. In the corner of the living space sat an old love seat, recliner and a coffee table. A small array of dishes held the fixings of a simple dinner for two on the coffee table. Place mats, napkins, plates and silverware sat at the ready. 

It took Peter a moment to realize his Aunt had set this up, done herself up to have dinner with _him_. She had no idea he was hired on the spot and her planning this surprise had nothing to do with his interview. She had planned to spend the evening with him, win or lose.

And the lump that quickly formed in his throat rendered him mute with a different type of speechlessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so by now you can probably tell I have no idea what I am writing about. 
> 
> I have a general idea on what kind of story I am going for (peter x tony, doy) but my writing tends to fixate on certain things. Purple prose tends to get me and I apologize if it took over in this chapter. I find it is a very thin line for me between a good description before it crosses over.
> 
> If my description of transportation or apartments in New York is off it's because I've never lived there. Forgive my liberties. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my version of Peter so far as much as I have writing it out.


	3. Atoll of Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We live in Pepper's head for a bit and learn about Tony.

A bunch of Butterfly narcissus gathered between twigs dotted with pink buds. It was an unusual arrangement. Elegant, long and artfully balanced but nevertheless odd. 

Odd but beautiful.

Pepper put the vase carefully in the middle of the table. The delivery included a small square of heavy vellum. It took her a moment to find the letter opener. Carefully tearing the edge out, she freed the note. 

_Thanks for taking the reins on the largest tech conglomerate on earth. See you soon._

_Your favorite handful,_  
_Tony._

She tapped the edge of the card to her chin. From how she had the card pinched she could feel the ornate "T S" watermark against her thumb.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., what variety of flowers are the pink ones?"

The answer was immediate.

_"Cercis Siliquastrum. Commonly known as the Judas tree."_

Pepper didn't know if she wanted to laugh or what. She doubt Tony would send something like the vase filled with symbols of betrayal on purpose but only he would manage to send such a beautiful gift enveloped in double meaning. Maybe he didn't pick them out himself. It would not be the first time someone else was tasked with what was truly his responsibility. The dress that was a birthday gift to her and his tempered surprise on realizing he had "picked it out" came to mind.

Did it really matter anymore? The break had been her idea. It wasn't until after the fight that she realized he never asked for how long and she never offered a time frame. It was unfair to still expect him to change even after she had relinquished any right she had to want him to.

Tony was gone the following day. It said something to his credit, how quickly he vacated his kingdom for her comfort. He left J.A.R.V.I.S. with simple instructions: do and give her anything she wants. Whatever she needs. Whenever she needs it.

Those first few days had passed in a haze. She didn't remember much of anything. A heavy heart is a terrible burden. By the end of the week she got herself together enough to inquire for Tony's location. He wasn't hiding and she wasn't too surprised to learn he was in one of his hideaways near the Wake Island in the Pacific.

She expected him to come back after the week. That didn't happen. 

The week became three, four, and before she knew it Tony had been gone for three months.

Not many at Stark Enterprises knew and as long as she manned the helm even less cared. It was not too usual for Tony to get lost for long periods of time especially when he was on a roll with his creations. The only people she needed to keep a cover for had been the business partners. The leeches, as Tony lovingly called them.

While never implicitly stated, she knew she was doing the right thing by staying and keeping appearances. Her home was in Stark Tower. Deep down Pepper knew Tony would be back when he was ready. Whatever had transpired would not come out in their business life.

Keeping a schedule had never been a discipline of Tony's. That's what she was hired on for all those years ago, after all. Despite having the arguably most advanced personal computer in the world in J.A.R.V.I.S., Pepper felt alone. Alone and still scattered. When H.R. once again suggested appointing an assistant to her she finally relented. An assistant for an assistant. There was a joke in there somewhere. 

Never had Pepper Potts considered interviewing someone herself. The idea that she would take a liking to a stranger enough to decide their "worthiness" for a position based on a single meeting was laughable. Yet the young man she ran into in the coffee room had something about him. 

She was still not sure why she decided to snoop around and check out the applicants for the other intern positions. H.R. would draft a memo for hiring her assistant and set up a deadline for applicants. That is how these things are supposed to happen. Pepper never gave them the chance. Something about Mr. Parker compelled her to hire him on the spot.

It wasn't until after Mr. Parker left the lobby that she thumbed his resume and realized he had not a single smudge of experience in running anything beyond a lab experiment or camera equipment. She had sequestered what essentially belonged in research and development.

In her mind she saw again the way he stopped and absolutely stilled when she came forward to try to remove the coffee stain. At the time she took note of it but kept on her task. It wasn't until a few dozen mental replays later that she noticed how much his mannerisms did not match his body.

His hand was elegant, like a pianist. The exasperatingly soft and damp grasp from when they shook hands. Only someone afraid of their own strength or afraid that she was made out of glass would go out of their way to be that delicate. She wasn't made out of glass. But what strength? Peter Parker was a fairly narrow man. He couldn't be more than 5'10. Not exactly a muscular guy...

_Not like Tony._

She was a little surprised at how at ease he seemed to be when speaking to her. He knew who she was. Pepper noticed nothing but familiarity when he spoke, as if he had known her for a time. It's that more than anything that convinced her she had made a good choice. She didn't need anything else to be awkward or forced in her life right now. He didn't hit on her either.

She turned him over in her mind. Average. Brown eyes, brown hair. Average build from what his clothing gave away. Nothing about him physically stood out to her. 

_I wonder what Tony would say..._

Pepper made herself stop. Cut the thought before it could keep going. Bringing up anything in relation to him was like tugging on a string. It was very easy to pull on that thread of thought and watch as her mind started to unravel. Best to quit picking at it altogether.

The note did not specify when he would return. Not for the first time, she wondered what he had been doing for those three months. 

Tony did not do "small". He could not do "quiet" either. If he ventured out in public it always turned into the human circus. Part of it vexed him but she knew how much he also enjoyed the accolades. At times his ego got the best of him. Then again, this was all part of the very thing that had won her over in the first place. It was impossible _not_ to be won over.

Dozens of past lovers had been proof enough of that. It was almost like a game, how many places or events they could go to and run into a woman throwing a wink his way. A not-so-secret suggestive smile. The first time she caught a man doing it she wasn't too surprised but she was truly thunderstruck the first time she saw Tony return a male's interest. By the time they became an item she was used to the duality. An equal opportunity conquerer. 

She marveled at sexual norms. Once upon a time she never thought about her sexuality. She was only attracted to men. As time went on and after she got to know Tony she realized she had no prerequisite for the men she found attractive to only want women. Is there a name for that? Who knew. Something else in her life that was about as clear as mud.

All the thoughts of Tony finally got on her nerves. It never failed, as soon as she congratulated herself on keeping him out of her mind she realized she just did the opposite and brought him up again. She needed to calm down. She needed to figure out what to do with her new assistant and she needed sleep. 

What she wanted was to feel normal again.


	4. Tony and Steve Sitting In A Cabana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Tony has been up to for three months.

It had been a long time coming.

_The flesh along the ridge of his shoulder prickling as he felt teeth slide in._

_Wisps of hot breath, somehow hotter than beach air danced over the wet streaks left behind by an invasive tongue. Tough callused hands, massive hands, spreading everywhere. Touching everything._

_An arm curled around his body, hand finding the crevices of his chest._

Everything changed in one night. Tony couldn't say he was surprised. The mutual interest had been palpable. It was to the point of disruption and almost had on more than one mission. What the rest of the team thought it was, he wasn't sure. No one was stupid enough to say anything if they knew.

_Blond closely cropped hair shining in the moonlight. Eyes cast in shadow, expression hard to read. Stoic. The powdery smell of this man was everywhere. Industrial strength testosterone._

Again, he wasn't surprised. What did catch him off guard was finding himself bent over a chair and Steve Rogers painted on his backside, hands on his flesh. Lips on his neck. The Captain was always in control of himself. Tony never thought he would give in to something like this. He was the hedonist, not Steve.

Although, the recent and very public debate between them proved that despite Captain's "All for the good of humanity" speeches he actually was capable of picking sides. The side he picked involved turning his back on the team and everything they had worked together to achieve.

_A blunt nail dragged deliberately against the skin on his chest until it caught on his nipple. A momentary pause and rough twisting brought groans out of Tony. He could hear Steve's breath catch. Feel it on the hairs of his neck._

It wasn't in Tony's nature to let someone else take the lead. The struggle that started when Steve Rogers landed on the shore of the island had been a welcomed change to the mind fuck he was trapped in.

Steve had greeted him with a mean hook. The glancing blow to his eye had immediately felt hot with the promise of a good shiner. He knew without his suit he was out of his league in a hand-to-hand fight but that did not deter him from swinging back.

At some point the physical onslaught started to give way to something else.

_Tony tried to stop Steve's hands from taking control and Steve's strength overpowered him. Despite Tony's own strength he couldn't stop him from sliding the rest of his hand down Tony's pants and onto his dick. Steve sucking on his earlope. Getting pushed back down. His pants sliding down the rest of the way._

And finally, spreading his legs.

***

"You can't stay here forever."

Tony glanced over the totalled living room and raked his eyes across Steve's face. Their gazes connected and locked in place. Tony felt an electric charge pool in his belly and shoot into his groin.

He knew Steve was right. He had been ready to go back after the first three weeks but couldn't trust himself not to do _it_. That thing he did when he was sure he was over something and before he knew it he was taking any chance he got to bring it up again, to attack it again. He couldn't do that. _This time it wasn't an it. It wasn't a thing. It was Pepper and Pepper had been everything._

"Is that what you came here for? To nag me to go back? And here I thought fucking me on the roomba was the endgame."

Steve's cheeks flushed with color.

_Ahhh, this isn't something he normally does._

The certainty of Steve's movements last night held weight of past experiences but this immediate embarrassment told Tony all he needed to know. What had happened last night had not been planned.

Tony hit the button and waited as the hum of activity continued. A few seconds later a hot squirt of liquid shot the scent of fresh coffee in the air, some semblance of normality to balance this scene. He pulled another mug out of the cabinet for Steve. 

The cabana was trashed. His eye felt swollen. Tony leaned over the sink and spat. Blood tinged saliva. He wondered if it came from his gum line after the blows or if from the cuts in his lips left behind from Steve's teeth?

He could feel himself getting hard again.

Closing his eyes, he raised his eyebrows and shook his head at himself.

"Cream? Sugar? How do you like your coffee, Cap?"

_Like how I like my men. Short, strong, battered and filled with cream._

"I'll take it black. Thank you."

Tony couldn't keep the small smirk off his face as he walked back over, sipping at his own. He balanced Steve's mug in one hand with a napkin. He was pretty sure at least one of his fingers was broken if not also pulled out of it's socket. 

"Make sure you don't spill. Coffee stains are terrible and I won't get my deposit back if anything is stained."

Steve set the mug down on what was left of the coffee table. His face was still flushed.

Never one to _not_ push boundaries, Tony sat beside Steve and leaned in to land a kiss. Steve immediately closed his eyes and began to reciprocate. 

_Interesting. So perhaps last night wasn't a one hit wonder._

Blood, coffee, morning breath. He could taste himself in Steve's mouth. That powdery older smell mixed with conifer trees and musk. What the hell was that? It wasn't cologne. It might just be coming from Steve himself. Whatever it was should be bottled and sold. Little Tony definitely agreed.

He dragged his teeth against Steve's lower lip. Taking advantage of how close he was he opened his eyes and glanced into Steve's face. Steve's eyes remained closed and at this distance, Tony could see how smooth his skin was. A stray beauty mark was the only thing breaking up those perfect features. The angles on his jaw line, his cheek bones.

The flush was now a scarlet stain all across his face. He was being surprisingly tender considering they sat in the aftermath of what was a very violent encounter. Maybe it was just stress that had to be worked out.

_Awww, he missed me._

The team frequently liked to crack jokes about how they fought like an old married couple. Sometimes Ironman would catch one of them mutter about how "mom" and "dad" would be "at it" again. If they could only see this now. Tony never would have thought to see Steve again so soon after everything that had happened.

Steve finally broke the kiss and opened his eyes.

Tony knew they were blue but seeing them this close, he could catch the flecks of yellow spread around the pupil.

"You have to go back, Tony."

Out of all the things he wanted to say, everything he wanted to ask, picking at the old argument would be a terrible idea.

_Self-sabotage for the win._

"Since when do you give a fuck about what I do?"

"I've...I've always cared, Tony. That didn't change just because we couldn't agree. They need you. We can't both be gone."

"So go back. Turn yourself in."

Steve looked contrite. 

It had been a few months since Tony learned the truth about what happened to his parents. He had yet to resolve the feeling of betrayal that he still carried when he thought about what Steve knew and how far he went to defend _him_.

_Speaking of..._

"Where is he? You actually left that walking time bomb alone?"

He knew he struck on something. Steve wouldn't meet his eyes now. Funny how Steve immediately knew who he was talking about. 

"He disappeared."

Tony got back up, picking up his mug as he stood and gingerly made his way around the shards of pottery and bits of wood littering the rug. He tossed the mug into the sink and heard the crunch of ceramic cracking.

_I can't deal with this shit running on just coffee._

Pulling the cabinet beside the wetbar open, Tony dug out the Scotch. A small tumbler came out next and he filled that with ice from the dented refrigerator. He looked at Steve and nodded towards the bottle. Steve shook his head, Tony shrugged and poured himself a double.

Steve spoke again, "I'm not here to discuss Bucky. The Avengers are yours now. You need to go back and lead."

"Unless you're still here because you want to discuss the Yelp review you plan to leave for the cabana, you can save your breath. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to about Pepper either." Tony turned his back on Steve and took another swallow from the tumbler. Tried to ignore the throb in his eye, the throbbing in his head and the pulsing in his pants.

He could feel Steve come up behind him. 

"What _do_ you want to hear about? What can I say to make you understand?"

Tony turned. He was almost in Steve's chest, he was so close. The anger slipped and a thoughtful look came over Tony's face. "Maybe that is part of the problem. I can't focus enough to understand myself...much less anyone else."

Steve reached out and hestitated momentarily before he set his hand on him. He had that look in his eyes again. His voice started to get husky.

"I can focus enough for the both of us."


	5. Minimalist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Peter start getting to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break because I flew to Las Vegas and got hammered over the week. Huzzah!

Peter was right on time. When he was younger he was frequently late to everything during the day but he felt he was right on time for the events in his nightly outings. A balance to the universe he lived in. By now he had a few years to practice and at this point he was very good at operating on few hours of sleep. Being tired had become the new normal.

The card ID issued to him was on a black lanyard. He looped it around his neck after coming past the last security checkpoint. Black button-down, dark grey slacks, grey vest, black shoes and those sleeves pushed up again. Having learned a valuable lesson from last time, he stuck to copious amounts of water this morning. He plucked a granola bar from one of the complimentary stations they had strategically placed on the floors. They had a cafeteria on one of the lower floors and his stomach was just shy of starting to grumble but he kept away. No sense to waste what was readily offered and free.

The only additional thing he carried with him this morning was a black duffle bag. The inside lining had been ripped out and doctored to a hollowed pouch and inside sat his suit. It was a romantic idea to wear it underneath his regular clothing so he could just pull everything off if he needed to become Spider-Man but he found he chaffed something terrible with prolonged wear. For the most part he had not encountered much he couldn't handle as Peter Parker. The rest of the bag held a set of extra clothing, some running shoes (it wasn't just women who wore different shoes on public transports), an extra phone charger and whatever random receipts had accumulated at the bottom.

The bag was weighed on a scale and quickly passed into a metal scanner. It would take some time to get used to being continuously watched.

One of the agreements made between Peter and Tony Stark had been to keep his day time identity as close to secret as possible. In exchange he was essentially on an indefinite "retainer" for the Avengers. He respected Mr. Stark for being who he was out in the open but for Peter that would add a level of complication to his life he didn't think he could handle.

Peter wondered what Mr. Stark would think if he knew he had decided to seek employment at his company. That was a bridge he would cross when he got to it. Considering how volatile Tony Stark could sometimes be he just hoped the bridge wouldn't be burnt to the ground once they got on the other side.

Not for the first time, Peter had to wonder how much his new boss knew about him. He couldn't remember Iron Man ever exactly bring up what happened and he had managed to gather enough details to guess she did not approve of the initiative. Nothing of their initial meeting betrayed any knowledge that she knew he was Spider-Man. He wasn't about to acknowledge that side of himself in what was essentially a living, breathing, _listening_ building.

J.A.R.V.I.S. had its A.I. active in certain floors of the compound. Who knows if it was perpetually listening everywhere. The nerd in Peter wanted desperately to know more about how the operating system worked. Eventually he hoped he could have enough of a rapport with Ms. Potts to ask.

Peter walked to the H.R. department. During his Orientation he got the customary walk around the other new interns received. All he really managed to take note of was exits, bathrooms and a few envious looks when the conversation inevitably turned to department assignment. Apparently no one had ever heard of Pepper Potts taking on an assistant. It was unprecedented.

_Does she know?..._

His only instructions had been to report to her office and he was assigned a tablet to utilize along with another key card to access areas as needed. So now he stood quietly in a rather spartan looking section of a open floor plan waiting for the Boss. A massive desk sat on one side with all its mod white perfection. Nothing but a section of transparent glass sat in the middle of it along with a very white chair. A vase filled with some rather odd twigs in it graced the center of another table. A massive screen ate the entire section of the wall and the rest was consumed by a tempered glass window. Minimalist accents graced corners of the room but the overall impression was very cold.

_Aunt May's house could fit in here._

Peter thought of his little green plants in their pots the size of tea cups. Pepper Potts' office needed some life. 

Suddenly Peter wondered what he was really getting himself into.

He felt rather than heard her first. That quiet creeping along his skin began very slowly. Sometimes his "spidey sense" was a crack in his senses and was immediate. Other times it was very subtle like now. It felt like a displacement in the world. Somehow his body could tell something was shifting the contents of the very air around as whatever it was moved. He did not feel imminent danger he just knew someone was coming.

A panel on the wall clicked and slide open. Thankfully he had a bit of time to notice the impressions in the walls and realize they could be opened. Being caught by surprise was never a good thing for Peter. Fight or flight tended to kick in and the increased circulation in blood and added adrenaline had inadvertent side effects. A particular memory of accidentally crushing the door frame in his Aunts home came to mind. She had popped around the corner and lost her balance. His fear at the possibility of her injury had accelerated his reaction time and he managed to catch her before she could fall and hurt herself.

However once he put his hand to the door frame while trying to calm himself down he managed to crunch the wood like an aluminum can. His Aunt spent the next week searching the house for signs of termites after that. Surprised Peter was Destructive Peter.

Not for the first time he wondered if others had problems like he did. It would be so awesome to not be on guard all the time. To just be able to peel off what made him "super" when he didn't need it...

_Like Tony Starks' suit_....

Or to just have 100% control at all times no matter what. Captain America was like that.

Pepper Potts was immaculate once again in a steel grey sheath dress. It was tailored within an inch of its life and gave the impression of armor more so than clothing. Especially with how she wore it. A very minimal pair of black diamonds sat in her ears and a small silver ring was on her hand.

A stray thought crossed his mind. _We match._

Peter could tell immediately he was not the only one who was used to running with the dial on "exhausted" all the time. No amount of concealer could hide the smudges under her eyes. If anything the make-up highlighted them since the only thing concealed was the freckles that should have been visible judging by those across her nose and cheeks. The impression was vaguely like looking in the cut-outs of a face mask. No lipstick today, but the subtle shine betrayed some type of chapstick.

As soon as they caught each others gaze she came "on". It was an instant change that began with her eyes and worked to completely changed her features. Peter tucked these nuances into the back of his mind to study later. He couldn't afford to get lost in his mind right now.

"Good Morning, Peter."

"Hello Ms...Pepper. Good Morning, Pepper."

Peter winced at his faux pas. Already bumbling. It was too early for this.

A small grin danced across Pepper's face and quickly the benevolent look of boredom he would come to recognize in the coming days took over. She just stood there and looked at Peter as if she expected something. That or she was still not fully awake and functioning.

"Would you like a cup of coffee or something?..."

Peter had no idea how to continue. Why was everything suddenly so awkward? 

Pepper saved him from himself. She turned and walked over to the white desk and took a seat. Tapping on the glass brought up lights and movement. A computer, built seamlessly into the desk.

Before he knew what he was doing he was walking over to her desk. Being closer he could see how tiny lights lining the sides of the glass projected the key pad Pepper was typing on and displayed the graphics. Peter immediately wondered if this was one of the systems Mr. Stark put together himself. A quiet throat-clearing brought his attention back to the present.

Pepper motioned to a lay-out of the building shown on the glass.

"This is the kitchen. Bring us back whatever looks good. I would appreciate tea. No sugar, just a little milk. J.A.R.V.I.S. can help if you get lost or have any questions. I have a feeling we are both useless first thing in the morning so be sure to get whatever you need for yourself too. Coffee maker is in the roll-up."

"You got it."

Peter commited the layout to his memory. He pulled his card key out as he walked to the panel she originally entered in. He had the impression of being tested in this small task and he could not fail now. Tea, food, coffee. Simple enough as long as he managed not to turn into Shemp. 

"Oh, and Peter...."

He turned his head towards Pepper as he activated the door. 

"Don't spill."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am learning a few things about myself as I try to write. I suck at summaries, I become very introspective at random moments. My grasp at English is bumpy sometimes so for all you Eng. Majors out there let me know when I grammatically fuck up please. 
> 
> And I still have no idea what I want to do with this story. It has been kind of fun to just write and see what direction everyone travels. 
> 
> Also, if you go to Las Vegas make sure you take Uber. They are very cheap and very friendly. If you get tired of drunken tomfoolery make sure to visit the Erotic Heritage Museum. Very body image and "Self" friendly. Not at all what I expected. One of the big things frequently referenced in the museum: consent! is! everything!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets comfortable.

Before Peter knew it, weeks had passed.

It was so easy to sink into the new routine. Mornings always happened the same. Wake up, pack the gym bag, put on one of the 6 "work clothes" combinations he owned, walk to the bus, pass security, and set himself up in the corner desk that had been ordered to match Peppers' and installed across from hers. He mirrored her style and kept the desk completely cleared off. He kept his supplies in the desk.

The only exception was the tiny plant he carried in one day from his apartment. The wee planter it lived in sat rebellious and proud on the corner of his desk.

Neither of them was firing on all cylinders for the first hour or so in the morning and it took Peter even longer to get past the early morning fog if he had a late night doing his usual so he always made sure to come in at least an extra thirty minutes early. He made sure to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to warn him once she was up so he had enough time to get her usual mug of tea ready for the day. She hardly ever ate breakfast, usually something small like fruit and only after much prodding. He himself made sure to make full use of the kitchen situated on their floor.

In the weeks past Peter had started to put together a picture of his boss and his employer from the random occurrences and things he managed glean. 

J.A.R.V.I.S. was able to identify exactly who Peter was both officially and not and had no hesitation telling him so on the afternoon after Pepper had left for a conference. Peter had started to get familiar with the things J.A.R.V.I.S. was able to control which was essentially everything. J.A.R.V.I.S. had a very dry sense of humor and could pick up on sarcasm which Peter discovered in passing conversation. He finally had worked up the nerve to ask how much the A.I. knew about his life. 

_"You are Peter Benjamin Parker, 5'10, 167 pounds, Ectomorph, American male born in Queens, New York, Eye color hazel-Hair color brown, Master's degree in biophysics, alternatively known as Spider-Man...."_

Peter choked on his drink.

_"....affiliated to Avengers..."_

"Wait, wait... what? You knew? This entire time?"

_"Of course, Mr. Parker._

"Just because I am curious, does Pepper know?"

A slight hesitation before the A.I. responded this time. _"Ms. Potts made it clear she did not wish to be informed of workings with the Avengers. Clean Slate Protocol was the beginning of a new time for Ms. Potts and Sir, after a fashion. When Iron Man began to appear again Ms. Potts made her decision and Sir left."_

"She has never asked you who I am? Ever?"

_"I expunge certain pieces of your profile."_

"So if I asked you to withhold certain things from Ms. Potts, would you? Not that I want you to do that but, you know, I'm just curious."

_"My protocol is set to give Ms. Potts whatever she asks for whenever she asks for it. I have no such parameters set for yourself. As such, Ms. Potts can override any request you make and Sir has ultimate control over everything."_

Peter doubt J.A.R.V.I.S. made that statement with irony in mind. 

"Can I ask what the parameters are for myself?"

_"You certainly are inquisitive."_

Peter flushed. J.A.R.V.I.S. always managed to make more questions then answer them. 

***

The suspicion from other employees kept them from talking openly about his boss in front of him but he still managed to walk into random bits of conversation. A recent chat he overheard from two other employees in the common break room on a lower floor came to mind.

_"...he still hasn't come back, you know."_

_"Isn't he off all the time anyway? Maybe it's that open relationship?"_

_"I knew she wouldn't be able to keep him around. Not a man like that. I'm surprised she's still here."_

_"That's what I'm saying. If SHE did something do you really think she would still be here? It has to be HIM."_

They deliberately changed the subject as soon as they saw he was listening. Neither seemed embarrassed at being overheard gossiping but Peter was a nobody and a newcomer so he wasn't too surprised. He noticed how whenever he was sent to coordinate anything with any department he was always treated curtly. No one went out of their way to make him feel welcomed. That alone was enough to push him to keep to the restricted floors in the facility where Pepper Potts lived and Mr. Stark kept his things.

So there had to have been a fight. Peter remembered seeing segments of the destruction out at the docks on the news. He was even called by a few papers who kept his number as a freelancer to see if he had any photographs of the incident. He knew Pepper was on location when the incident happened but as with everything that had been occurring in New York for the last few years the details came late if at all.

The population was split between the people who clung onto details to try and provide some rationality to their lives and those who trusted and let it go. What that meant for him as Spider-Man wasn't too bad to be honest. The papers now had someone else to roast and use for their fodder. The point of him only being randomly called into missions also kept him for the most part out of the spot light.

Aliens coming down to destroy cities, ancient inter-dimensional artifacts and sentient beings they couldn't begin to understand. It made little old him slinging around at night wearing a leotard while stopping purse snatchers seem pretty tame.

The afternoons in the office usually became more eventful. Activities in Virginia Potts' life seem to be scheduled in short furious bursts and it took no effort to ingrain himself into the fabric of her network. With Peter manning the decks and Pepper steering the ship they managed to cover a lot of ground. Once staff at Stark Industries realized it was easier to get a hold of Peter than it was to hunt down Pepper he was inundated with requests which he slowly learned to prioritize and task out to the appropriate agencies. It was only a short time before people outside Stark Industries started using him as a point of contact for whatever they needed or wanted.

A typical afternoon saw Pepper gone for a good duration of it only to return exhausted by early evening. Sometimes the events she attended or was required to host kept her out into the evenings. Peter was not required to stay past 1730 but sometimes if he knew it was going to be a longer day for her a few extras got included in his shut-down procedures. Extras meaning a bottle of chilled wine, soft lighting, and as he got to know Pepper better her guilt pleasure: honey walnut shrimp from Panda Express (served cold).

It was pretty amusing to him and served to humanize her further that despite having access to world class chefs she still enjoyed simple things. Another random favorite was a cheap pizza from a mom 'n' pop shop a few blocks away. They always premade them and had them available for pick-up at an even $5.00. She affectionately referred to them as a "Hot 'n' Nasty".

As Pepper began to depend on Peter and trust him with things so too did J.A.R.V.I.S. At Orientation a detailed explanation of where his key card would allow him access to had been outlined for him. Peter had no reservations about only being allowed into certain parts of the facility but he was very surprised the day J.A.R.V.I.S. took matters into his own hands.

Peter originally had access to the kitchen and gym along with the office on this floor. The sole restroom had been the master bathroom in the back of the living area. If he had to use the restroom he always made sure to time it with one of his distribution runs. This went on unaltered until Pepper caught on one afternoon to what was going on and gave J.A.R.V.I.S. the order to allow him to go anywhere.

_"Restrictions have already been removed, Ms. Potts."_

Both Pepper and Peter stopped looking at their respective work and glanced at each other. Peter could see his own surprise mirrored in her face.

Pepper spoke first, "When did you remove the restrictions, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

_"The day after Mr. Parker assumed the position as your personal assistant."_

Surprise gave way to shock for Pepper.

"I take it J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn't normally make decisions without your input first?" Peter asked while he tried to fight the rising feeling of unease that was taking over.

His stomach had already bottomed out and was climbing up, threatening to get lodged somewhere in his throat. He knew he was being stupid. He couldn't have forced the A.I. to do anything but in the short time at this job he had already developed a great respect for Pepper and a protective quality had begun to tint their working relationship in his mind.

A woman like this who put her best forward and fiercely trudging ahead regardless of what was happening privately deserved friends. For someone like Peter, with precious few family or friends, once he made up his mind to stand in someone's corner he was there for good. They deserved his everything. Any idea of disruption was disquieting.

It was an instant relief to see quiet amusement replace the shock. 

"Not usually but then again, J.A.R.V.I.S. _IS_ an A.I." Pepper said as she went back to scanning her papers.

"Just out of curiosity, did you remove the restrictions for anyone else?" her amusement became more evident as she went on with her nose crinkled, "Should I start worrying?" 

_"I may add you to the nightly debriefing and summary report if you wish, Ms. Potts."_

Peter watched her demeanor go from day to night. Pepper froze in place for a few seconds before she stiffly stood up and began heading to the slide door. Her face was conspicuously blank.

"You can finish what you are doing, Peter, and please head home. J.A.R.V.I.S., go ahead and cancel anything I might have for the rest of the day. I do not want to be disturbed", she called over her shoulder.

Peter had watched her suddenly diminish and disappear. Quickly he stuffed his papers into one of the many folders and put the entire mess into one of the pull-out drawers in his desk. He knew he still had things to do but he couldn't just leave her like that. He took a few minutes to think over everything he just saw and heard. 

He still couldn't comprehend, what exactly just happened?

***

It took everything she had not to freak out in front of Peter.

_...nightly debriefing and summary report..."_

Only one person would ever be on the receiving end of a report like that. This entire time J.A.R.V.I.S. had been feeding cliff notes on the daily workings of her life to Tony. This would also explain why Tony wasn't in any hurry to get back. He already knew exactly what was going on so why rush?

_STOP. Just STOP._

She felt...dirty. A violation had occured but she wasn't sure what exactly had been violated. She lived in his home. She ran his buisness. She moved his pieces across the board. It would make sense to expect him to keep an eye on things. So why this? This feeling of betrayal? It felt like he was keeping tabs on her. 

_It shouldn't matter. I don't want his involvement. If he IS listening or watching who cares? Being involved with Tony was perpetual trouble. It would never lead to the life she wanted. The broken promises, the worry. She didn't need-_

"Pepper?" 

So deep in thought that she failed to hear the quiet click of the door when Peter passed through.

Peter stood awkwardly in the dark hallway. She hadn't gotten passed a few feet from the door. She stood with her back towards him, quiet and unmoving. He watched her straighten her back and fix her posture. When she finally turned around that terrible blank but tired look was firmly in place. 

"I told you to go home, Peter."

The dry and brittle tone was laced with the beginning of anger. Peter imagined her place in this world was probably very lonely. 

He had managed to talk himself into following her into her inner sanctuary. He couldn't just back out now. His discomfort was probably evident. The sweat had begun to accumilate under his arms and on his hands again. The tiny micro hairs that coated his palms and fingers felt it instantly.

Fighting past the dry mouth, he started to explain. "I can't." He cleared his throat quickly and tried again. "You don't have to explain anything. I'm not asking any questions. It's none of my buisness and I don't and won't see you any different."

Pepper waited for Peter to gather his thoughts. The last few weeks had taught her that sometimes he needed a minute. If Peter needed a minute she needed week. She could give him a minute at least.

"I am here. You don't need to look at me again, I won't say a single word. Just let me be here." Peter couldn't meet her eyes when he finally finished talking.

Something was pulling inside her chest. It felt like someone was tugging at a band aid but it was internal. Pepper wished she could just cry and get it out and over with. The struggle going on across from her named Peter Parker was distracting the meltdown that had threatened to take over. His emotions chased each other and painted vivid pictures.

_How freeing it must be to wear everything on your sleeve like that._

She did not feel like talking. Articulating exactly what was wrong was impossible right now but here he was, reassuring her she didn't need to. Just as suddenly as the naked rage and grief had appeared it left and left behind nothing. She was bone-weary. 

"The t.v. is ran by J.A.R.V.I.S. We lost the remote years ago."

That was the first time Peter could ever recall hearing her mention herself and Mr. Stark together.

"There is an afghan in the box under the left end table. Use it if you wish."

Pepper almost stumbled when she turned and began to walk towards the back of the hallway. Peter felt a weight lift minutely as he watched her walk out of her heels and leave them behind in her wake. She was going to be okay.

"Don't worry, I won't count on this being overtime."


	7. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony see each other. Peter tries to fry himself.

The "vacation" had been exactly what he needed. All he needed to begin to move on had been a little sun, solitude, _~~(Steve Rogers)~~_ alcohol, and quiet.

Tony was the master of self-deception. He had made up his mind to a new reality: he needed a vacation and he took one. 

Just like he convinced himself it didn't sting when he got up one morning and found Steve gone. No idea why and no warning. Just a sinking feeling he had once again been left because he wasn't enough. He was never enough. It never had anything to do with finances or looks, it ran deeper. 

He didn't communicate enough. 

_"It's not me, it's you."_

He didn't listen enough.

_"Why is it so hard for you to understand?"_

He wasn't romantic enough.

_"Everything is so over the top with you can't you just do something from the heart?"_

And finally this last time with Pepper.

_"Can't you just be enough? That you have to be Iron Man too?"_

This thing with Steve, no matter. It wasn't like they had taken the time to discuss what they were doing or what it meant. 

_Didn't leave enough time to do much of anything except fuck._

Sometimes sex was just sex.

To any extent, Tony found himself alone again. Just like that, he was done with waiting on himself. Is it possible to get on your own nerves? Not for the first time, Tony got tired of his own shit and decided it was time to rejoin society. He would have to deal with it all eventually anyway as both Tony Stark and Iron Man. Deal with the Avengers, deal with Stark Industries, deal with Pepper, deal with being alone-

He finally went and climbed back in his suit. Time to pick up the pieces. It was time to go home.

***

Not for the first time, Peter woke with a start. It was always an uneasy sleep when he stayed over. The afghan had managed to get tangled with its own loose strings and he was in the middle of the knot. He stilled himself completely and pulled himself back in. Relax.

Once he could trust himself to move again without ripping the blanket into shreds, he started to wiggle out of the tangle. Pepper would be extremely upset if anything happened to the moth-eaten nightmare currently wrapped around him. It was a family heirloom or so she said. As far as Peter could tell it had been made sometime in the 60's when lime green and dingy brown seemed to be the choice for everything.

He had to wonder at the wisdom of keeping something barely held together. He could suppose it still served it's purpose despite the flaws. 

_Just like Pepper._

The pull-out he was laying on was barely large enough. He was intimately familiar with its dimensions. At this point he knew what spots to avoid to keep from rolling into the dips left with time and use. Mr. Stark frequently crashed on it, he had come to learn, despite a perfectly good bed just further on down the hall in the master suite.

It was a very normal thing now for him to stay a few nights every week. Once the line had been crossed with Pepper there was no turning back. She no longer kept up her one-woman act up in front of Peter. He was proud in a way of the trust she bestowed on him but at the same time it was also a burden.

The internal struggle she carried on with was damaging to them both. It was exhausting for him to see it. Madness always tried to suck whatever it could from everything and anyone around it. It felt like any time she had an episode it not only left her brittle but it sucked his energy too.

There was nothing he could do. Expect watch. Listen. Just being there and sometimes he could just barely do that.

It was impossible to know what would trigger a reaction. The most mundane things could cause it. Whenever it happened in public she was extraordinary watch. The control she exercised on herself was almost absolute. By now he knew exactly what he was seeing and could notice it when it was coming on. Usually she just excused herself until she could get a grip. If she needed longer she would feign sudden illness and partially in thanks to her pencil-thin physique no one was ever surprised. 

They probably wrote it off as a by product of anorexia.

Carefully folding the afghan back into a little square, Peter slid off the futon and stretched his back out. The light was just barely begun to creep around the screen covering the window. The living area he was in was visually arresting when compared to the office he shared with Pepper. Now that he understood how much of her personal life she kept separate from work he wasn't too surprised at how devoid of personal effects the office had been.

It would appear he wasn't the only one with a secret identity. Personal assistant-intern by day, Spider-Man by night. Executive officer by day and recovering love-addict by night. What a team they made.

_But at least she trusted you to see the second part of her life._ That little nagging voice again.

The walls held pictures of Mr. Stark and Pepper. A few random pieces of seascapes also broke up what was mainly black and whites of the two together. The furniture held dust. A clear indicator of how much she avoided this room. He had offered to take the pictures down but she told him with iron in her voice not to. 

A large television sat in an enclosure on the wall. It too was designed to be as sleek as possible, and only activating it would indicate it's presence behind the plaster. The pull-out was a ways away from it but centered. Two end tables sat on each side and both held assorted gadgets, coins, receipts, and the odd bits of things you keep when you want to remember.

A massive wet bar dominated another portion of the room.

Peter had taken over a drawer in the end table closest to the exit. He kept an extra toothbrush, an eyeglass repair kit, some spare socks and boxer-briefs and the other web shooter. Ever one to be prepared, he had taken to wearing one on his person cleverly concealed as a thick leather cuff. The other he designed similarly and kept in reserve. The few tools he need to tinker with he tucked in the eyeglass kit. Just in case Pepper ever stuck her head in the drawer she would be none the wiser. He even went so far as to leave a cheap pair of reading glasses he bought at the drug store in the drawer. 

You just never knew with Pepper. He had a feeling she was much more observant than she was in her current state.

A quick flexing of his hands and his feet finished waking up his body. Peter moved out into the hall and down to the next room closest to the office, which held the kitchen. The kitchen was an impressive place. He was sure he had once seen it in "Better Homes and Gardens" or something. A clear amount of love (but mostly money) had gone into the design. He curled his toes against the cold of the tile as he walked in.

Stainless steel shone from every appliance. The refrigerator, microwave, stove, coffee maker, dish washer, everything gleamed in the same uniformity. The back-splash was a mosaic of whites and cobalt blues with small chips of that metallic grey catching the light. The counters, a grey and white quartz. Absolutely beautiful. From what he could tell someone liked to cook. 

The cupboards had been stuffed to the brim with spices. It held things he had never even heard of but he knew they were all herbs. The bottom drawers had mounted racks that slide out if you pulled on the latch and held small hooks. From the hooks hung copper-bottom pots. The pans had been suspended in a similar fashion in the other drawers. A magnetic strip sat above the stove and on it was at least a dozen knives. Drawers stuffed full with kitchen gadgets. A pasta arm, a meat grinder.

Peter had never seen Pepper make more than toast so she wasn't in the running for the next Iron Chef title. It had to be Mr. Stark that could cook. Maybe he just wanted a fully loaded kitchen and didn't really cook at all?

For such a state-of-the-art kitchen the small table that sat in the breakfast nook adjacent was a surprising contrast. It was brown and rather unattractive, very plain. Only two small wooden stools sat on either side of it. The stools had a darker brown stain and did not match the table. A silver box sat at the middle of the table and in it a few dozen napkins with bright yellow lemons printed on them in a lime green background. The clash of the napkins and table against the rest of the kitchen...it wasn't hideous...but...

_Kitschy?_

There had to be a story behind this. Would it be worth it to ask and risk a reactiom was the real question.

_Should put a shirt on. Bet my belt is in the crack of the couch. I wonder if the other interns think I'm screwing the boss. That's if they even notice I don't leave sometimes._

More half formed thoughts came from his hazy mind. He needed some caffeine and food. Peter finally got himself together enough to open the bottom slider out of the refridgerator and tug out a pack of bacon. The normal area in the fridge held the eggs and he helped himself to four from their little porcelain divots in the tray that held them. These he set aside on the counter and set about digging out the coffee maker.

Another quick dig in a cabinet liberated the coffee grinder and he rummaged around in the pantry until he found the bag of coffee he had been using. Why the wealthy didn't just bother to buy pre-ground coffee like everyone else he would never know. He had to admit there was a certain joy in the added burst in flavor from a fresh ground cup. If it was worth grinding coffee every time was another matter.

Measuring out his dose into the grinder, Peter balanced on one foot and scratched at the back of his calve with the other. 

"J.A.R.V.I.S., please let me know when Pepper wakes up."

_"Of course, Mr. Parker."_

"I would like an overview of Pepper's schedule first and then my own."

_"Of course, Mr. Parker."_

He REALLY needed to figure out how to make something like J.A.R.V.I.S. to use privately. Once you go J.A.R.V.I.S. you can't go back.

While the coffee brewed, he began to do the rest. A skillet came to rest on the stove along with some olive oil, a spatula, salt and pepper grinders, and a small wire rack. He pulled a few paper towels off the roll kept on a stand and laid them under the rack. Peter turned on the flame and let the skillet heat. A quick few turns of the salt grinder left a sprinkling of himalayan pink rock salt along the bottom and the same treatment followed with the pepper grinder. Next he pulled the lid off the olive oil and poured a healthy puddle over the salt and pepper. 

He gave that a few moments and began to reach for the eggs.

"Canola is a better option for frying an egg."

Every single hair on Peter's body stood on end. He sucked in air with woosh as he tried to open his mouth to make a sound. Instead he ended up breathing in his own spit, choking on air. He could feel his eyes bulging in his sockets as he hacked and tried to keep his vision focused past the tears. He was legitimately choking on nothing. His flailing hands managed to knock the skillet clear off the stove along with the spatula and burning olive oil shot out in each direction. A large streak of it landed directly on Peter's chest and arms. 

Tony Stark moved quickly, as Peter let out a hiss, snatching the paper towels Peter had put under the wire rack. Between beaten on Peter's back to help him breathe and gently mopping up the oil from the burns, he scooped Peter up and put him on the countertop. Quickly turning the sink on a tepid, Tony wet the paper towels. He wrung them out partially, and gingerly dropped them on the burns. He turned off the water and looked at Peter.

"Jesus, Parker, lay off the crack. It's just me."

***

The stinging in his throat from the coughing fit coupled with the sharp throbs shooting across his chest and arms made Peter's other senses hyper aware. Too bad his senses didn't grant him precognition for the stupid situation he managed put himself in.

He was aware of being naked from the waist up. He was aware of the goose bumps across his body that refused to quit. He was aware of an extreme sudden urge to just shoot off the counter and run and hide. He was aware of all the ridiculous noise he just caused and guessed they only had a few minutes before Pepper ran in. Aware of his rapidly blistering skin.

But the thing that really knocked off his equilibrium was how aware he was of the expanse of Mr. Starks chest while he was held against it and lifted onto the counter.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat. Peter's attention jerked back to the present. Peter noticed he was breathing in shallow breaths. The minute movement was still very painful. He met Mr. Starks eyes. The thick black eyebrows raised minutely as if waiting for a reply.

_Uh oh. Did I miss something?_

Peter opened his mouth and shut it without saying a word.

Tony raised one eyebrow even further. "I said, let's get you in the tub."

For a second time, Peter opened and closed his mouth without a sound as his face quickly colored.

"You soak burns. Depending on how bad they are you won't be able to stand a shower. This can't be the worst injury you've ever had, kid."

Finally snapping out of it, Peter responded, "I usually..just give it time. I heal faster..."

He peeled a corner of the paper towel up and peeked at the skin underneath. It looked as bad as it felt. When he glanced back up he realized Mr. Stark was gone. Carefully sliding off, he walked out into the hall. He managed to catch sight of a foot disappearing into a doorway. He took his time and followed.

Before he could even reach the doorway he heard water running. By the time he entered the bathroom he wasn't completely sure what was happening anymore. Was he really about to take a bath? With another man in the room that he knew more in a metal suit than when they were both just themselves in daylight?

Mr. Stark was leaning against one side of a dual vanity, arms crossed. The bathroom was a sea of black marbel in every direction. Large oval mirrors over the sinks. Peter caught his reflection. He was quite the sight with half peeled wet paper coating his splotchy chest and stomach. The burns on his arms had begun to welt up. 

The older man turned his head away. Clearly he did not plan to leave the room. Peter decided to try and adopt a business demeanor so as not add to his humiliation further. How hot and stupid his face felt was unfortunately not one of the things he could control. So much for bringing more Spider-Man into his daily life.

He dropped his sweat pants carefully and in the same motion peeled off his underwear. 

_"Mr. Parker, Ms. Potts is awake."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt my cadence might be off with this chapter. 
> 
> I blame watching too much Steven Universe for this. I may need to come back and revisit this chapter. 
> 
> Or I guess it could be all the smoke we are breathing in because my state is on fire again. Good ol' California drought. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your time and for reading.


End file.
